


Tails for Head, Heads for Tail

by beingbaz



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingbaz/pseuds/beingbaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's had a hard time of it recently, and just wants to get clean. He decides to take a shower and there has the dirtiest thoughts...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tails for Head, Heads for Tail

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All copyrights belong to their respective owners. I make no money from this, and merely wrote it for fun.  
> Just written for fun in 2006 (and it obviously shows its age from in show references, but I still like it). Slight edit to the beginning.
> 
> As always, no beta.

The scene that day had been particularly awful. Family of six, three girls, two boys, and their father. Perps unknown had infiltrated the house, and had done terrible things to the family before brutally murdering each of them. All within an eighteen hour period when no one thought to look for them.

Nick Stokes hated scenes when they involved kids, and the youngest, a boy barely thirteen, had reminded him of someone he'd known when he was younger. Never mind that they still didn't have any leads as to who could have committed the crime.

He slammed the door of his new apartment behind him. After that stalker had tracked him home, he found he couldn't stay there anymore. Nick tugged his shirt over his head. And then there had been that guy who'd left him in a box, in a fucking box, underground and rigged with explosives. Presumably to kill anyone who found his body after he'd suffocated. He couldn't go back to the scene, couldn't make himself stand where he'd been buried for hours. He was more vicious when it came to bugs in his personal life. The fuckers all died now. It didn't matter that it was fire ants that had tormented him. Every bug was the enemy. And Grissom would find that very sorry indeed if he knew.

He scratched his chest as he rooted through his bedroom for some comfortable clothes he could just lounge in. Gil Grissom, his personal mentor, his savior, he knew. He'd been told, hadn't he, that it was Grissom who'd realized what kind of bugs had been biting him and injecting their venom, which led to the realization of the rarity of fire ant mounds in Nevada. To the plant nursery he'd been stashed in.

He could still see the way Grissom had looked through the box, forcing him to calm down. Making him promise not to run screaming and crying from the box the way he'd wanted to. Nick booted off his shoes, and turned the shower on. He needed to wash the grime of the day away. How he'd wanted to run, to find some place to curl up and sob. Fear, relief, grief, and shock had broiled in him, but he'd stayed in the box. Grissom's hand on his chest holding him down, his groping hands reaching for something to hold on to. He'd held Grissom's arm, Warrick's hand. He'd never been so grateful and full of fear at the same time.

Nick tipped his face into the spray, wetting down his hair so he could shampoo it. Warrick, he thought. Warrick still kicked himself occasionally, cursing about fate, about the flip of a coin. Nick knew that Warrick still had that coin, he'd seen Warrick worrying it with his fingers when he thought no one was watching him.

Nick grinned now, rinsing the soap from his hair, thinking of the tall black man he'd always enjoyed working with. Warrick Brown, CSI, who'd kicked his gambling habit, gotten married, and was always available with a quick grin or a dirty joke. Despite the fact that his marriage was a joke, because Warrick couldn't stay with that woman. Sure, she was pleasant, even nice, and had a sex appeal you could see in her eyes when she smiled. But he'd heard it from Warrick himself - the woman didn't smile enough, she was always complaining. The only way Nick knew from Warrick to keep her complacent was to fuck her, hard and fast, any time, anywhere.

Nick had seen Warrick less than clothed several times during shifts, and he knew what Warrick's body looked like. He could imagine, Warrick naked and hard, thrusting for all he was worth. Nick took his body wash, drizzled some into the palm of his hand and worked a lather on his chest, letting his hand stray down to his now hard cock.

Oh, well Nick could imagine. He saw Warrick, in his mind, stepping into his shower, that cocky smile on his lips.

"Hey, buddy, you busy?" Warrick would say.

"Just a bit, but I got some time," he would reply, still soapy, dick still in hand.

And then Warrick would hit him with that million-watt smile of his, and step close, his hand following the line of Nick's arm down, taking the place of Nick's tugging hand, squeezing fingers. Warrick would kiss Nick, hard, no need to be gentle. Both would know what was wanted.

The kiss in itself would be a kind of battle, of dominance, nipping teeth and thrusting tongues. Nick could see himself when Warrick squeezed harder than necessary, fighting dirty to win. Nick's gasp would kind of echo in the shower, his neck arch, and he'd feel Warrick's teeth biting in. Biting hard enough to leave a mark visible the next day.

Nick knew he wouldn't be able to contain a heavy moan if Warrick did that, he was moaning even then, just thinking of it.

After Warrick was done biting Nick's neck, they'd kiss again, less of a battle this time. More sensual, more sexy. And Nick could see it in his mind, see himself coming in Warrick's hand, the semen on Warrick's fingers. Warrick would grin at him, and bring the fingers to his own mouth, licking Nick's sticky come off of them.

Somewhere Warrick would have gotten lube, and Nick could see him lubing his own cock, making Nick's mouth water. He wanted his mouth on that cock, wanted to suck Warrick and watch him up through is lashes to see the delicious faces Warrick would make along with the noises. But apparently that wasn't going to happen in this fantasy. In this fantasy, Warrick was in control, and what he wanted, he got.

Before Nick knew what his mind was going to bring, he saw himself bent forward, palms pressed against the shower tiles, water streaming down his back, over his ass, and onto Warrick.

In the logical place somewhere in his mind, Nick knew he'd have made Warrick wear a condom, but this was fantasy, and in fantasy it's no harm, no foul.

Warrick had Nick's hips in his hands, his cock in Nick's ass, and he was gritting his teeth from the pressure.

"Always knew you were a tight-ass, Nick," he'd groan, and Nick would feel the laughter bubbling somewhere inside him.

Nick felt his balls start to draw up and knew he was close to coming. He pressed the head of his cock in to the palm of his hand, thrusting, his other hand squeezing his thigh. His own teeth were bared, and he grunted knowing he was close.

"Oh, god, Warrick," he groaned.

In his fantasy, Warrick was slamming into him, hard, not worrying at all about being gentle. And in his mind, he heard Warrick's shout of ecstasy as came in him, the shudders that racked his own frame and he knew would have racked Warrick's.

Nick came in his hand, the semen cutting through the steam of his shower, and the relief he felt was nearly enough to make tears form in his eyes. So good, he thought. If only it had been real.

Nick finished his shower, cut off the water, and was reaching for a towel when he heard his phone ringing. He hurriedly went into the other room, fumbled with his phone, and finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man, you busy," Warrick asked. Nick grinned, he couldn't help it.

"Just got out of the shower, so, no. I'm good. Why, you wanna come over, watch TV?"

"I just gotta get out of this house. I'm goin' nuts."

Nick was still breathing, not heavily, but deeply. This was too much. "Well, you're welcome to come over. I've got beer, chips, the works. You can always crash here if you don't want to drive home."

He knew Warrick was considering on the other end. Nick was good at hiding his secret, but sometimes he could swear that Warrick had to know. Had to know how Nick felt about him. Not that he'd say anything.

"Sure. I can be there in a half. I wanna shower myself. All right?"

"No prob, then I can throw on some clothes and get some stuff together. See ya?"

"Yeah, see you soon."

Nick hung up the phone, and just grinned for a few moments. Then he realized he was standing stark naked in his living room, as he'd never quite managed to get that towel. He laughed, and turned back towards the bathroom. He was glad he hadn't missed the call.

Nick toweled off, threw on his clothes, and mentally checked the stock in his fridge. If he hurried he might have time to get another thing of beer, the kind he knew Warrick liked.

He smiled when he saw an errant coin lying on the floor of his bedroom. Nick picked it up, flipping it idly, his lips a soft curve. _Tails for head, heads for tail?_ he thought, his smile turning wicked before he tucked the coin into his pocket, and began picking up around the apartment.

He knew it would be a great time. Any time he got to spend with Warrick, Nick acknowledged, was great. But this time... well, who knew?

**End**


End file.
